The Eye of the Wolf

by Sadie Vanderveen

  He had left her alone just as she had requested. He hadn’t appeared to work. He hadn’t stopped by at the Patio for a mindless dinner. The only thing that reminded her daily of his presence was the appearance every morning of a fresh rose on her patio’s table.

  And it was that daily reminder of what had been, of what might have been if he wasn’t who he was that hurt the most. She wished he would just leave her in peace, forget about her, and return to whatever his life had been before this affair had begun. She could handle him just walking away; she knew she could. It was his presence that she couldn’t handle.

  Mikayla flicked the tear away and stood from her resting place. This was not the time to think of Will, or His Royal Highness as she would have to begin to think of him. She must find the exit and then, find the fiend whom had invaded her sanctuary and stolen her belongings.

  She began to climb slowly, pacing herself, remembering that the path would eventually lead somewhere. Wherever it led, she would handle the end result. She huffed out a last breath as she reached the top and pressed a hand against a heavily carved wooden door. She shone her flashlight over the door and was relieved to see a traditional door knob waiting to be turned. Her light played across the door as her eyes took in the intricate carving of a wolf baying to the full moon.

  It was the seal of the royal family of Amor. Had this staircase led to the Secluded City?

  It was an intriguing thought, one that made sense considering the location of the house to the Secluded City. But what purpose did it serve?

  Mikayla grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly. The door swung open on silent hinges. The passage flooded with light.

  Chapter 18

  Victoria straightened from where she had knelt beside the State Bed. Her heart beat like that of rabbit being pursued by its hunter. Her mouth was dry and her eyes wide as Mikayla stepped from the opening in the wall into the bed chamber.

  Mikayla’s eyes were wide as her foot hit the plush carpeting of the King’s bed chamber. As her eyes adjusted to the brilliant light from the mid-day sun, she took in the opulence of the room. Chairs covered in brilliant blue satin flanked a fireplace crafted from a deep, midnight blue marble. Above the fireplace hung a painting of a man she recognized as King Henry, the founder of the kingdom. Deep mahogany tables littered the room covered with delicate china vases and crystal knick-knacks. The midnight blue carpeting ran from wall to wall and in the center of the carpet was the seal of Amor, the wolf guarding its territory in the moonlight. Heavy, velvet drapes were pulled back from the ceiling tall windows, allowing the spring sun to shine into the room, freshening from the long illness of the king who had died there just a week before. The large state bed reigned from the center of the room, dominating in size and power. The canopy was covered in the same blue velvet as the drapes and decorated with gold and red cords. The lighter satin cover shimmered in the light like a placid lake of blue.

  It was beside that sea of blue that Mikayla’s eyes found those of the startled Princess Royale of Amor. Mikayla immediately dropped onto one knee as she had seen the people of Amor do when confronted with a member of the royal family, knowing that she was in a place she had no right to be.

  Victoria’s pulse scrambled to reset itself as she struggled to compose the look of astonishment that adorned her face. Mikayla had just stepped into the room from a secret passageway. Victoria looked at the bent head of the other woman and swallowed the air that had gotten trapped in her chest. She slipped the vial she had found beneath the edge of the bed into the pocket of her simple blue pants and crossed the room in several strides.

  “Mikayla, please stand up. There is no need for you to do this silly gesture.” Victoria touched Mikayla’s shoulder and gestured for her to stand. A smile was plastered to her face, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. She hoped it hid the fear that sang through her at the thought of being discovered in the King’s bed chamber. Victoria’s voice sang through the bed chamber, welcoming. “Wherever did you come from?”

  Mikayla stood and pushed the hair from her face awkwardly. “Um…well,” she paused. How was she supposed to tell the Princess Royale that she had infiltrated the castle through a secret passage from the cellar of her house? That sounded ridiculous, even to her and she had lived it. She looked at Victoria, whose green eyes were cool, reserved, but questioning. Victoria had a pleasant smile on her face, even if she was still startled to see Mikayla appear from nowhere. “Your Highness, I followed a staircase from beneath the house I was given to here. I honestly didn’t know where I was going.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I apologize for interrupting.”

  Victoria’s eyes widened in surprise. “A secret passageway?” Her voice was a whisper of awe. “How terribly exciting!” Her eyes danced with pleasure. “I’ve always wanted to discover something as thrilling as a secret passageway. You Americans are so terribly clever, Mikayla.” She beamed.

  Victoria moved around Mikayla, the faint scent of lemon verbena following in her wake. She peered through the opening that Mikayla had moved through making noises that resembled exclamations of astonishment and curiosity. Her long, tapered fingers with their coral fingernails tapped on the wooden frame of the door as she investigated the opening and the stairs that disappeared below. She turned to Mikayla with excitement dancing in her eyes.

  “You have truly discovered something phenomenal. I am very jealous.” Victoria laughed with delight and stepped through the door. Her navy leather pumps clicked joyfully on the first step. She leaned down to peer through the gloom. “How odd that it should lead directly to your cellar. I wonder what its purpose is?” Victoria looked over her shoulder at Mikayla whose eyes were dark with nerves and a crease was carved in her forehead. “Do you think, perhaps, there was a lover who once used this staircase to visit her lover, the King?”

  Victoria’s whisper was full of conspiracy and good humor. Mikayla found herself smiling back and relaxing. She had forgotten how enjoyable she had found Victoria at their first meeting, the feeling that if they had met under different circumstances they would have been friends. “Or perhaps it was how spies were dispatched so there could be no connection between the King and any spies caught in other countries.”

  Victoria stepped through the door. “That sounds wonderfully like a James Bond film. I do love a good James Bond movie!” Her light voice danced upon the sunbeams that shot through the glass of the windows. “I suppose I should shut this so that no persons go wandering into your home. We wouldn’t want Monsieur Kanakaredes to go wandering into your home and frightening you to death.” She wiggled her perfectly groomed eye brows slightly. “He gives me the absolute willies.”

  Mikayla grinned as Victoria pushed the door closed. It was fascinating to think of this self-assured princess being nervous around anyone, especially an employee. Mikayla stared at the wall as it settled into place. If she hadn’t just come through the opening, she would have never known there was such a door behind the cream silk wall-covering that nestled neatly into place when the wall ceased to move. There were no creases that her naked eye could discern. She ran a hand over the silk and could barely feel the space between the wooden door and the door frame.

  “Wow.” Mikayla murmured.

  Victoria smoothed the sleeves of her white silk blouse and adjusted the watch that adorned one wrist. Her fingers were bare as was her other wrist. She watched Mikayla through the lashes of her down-turned eyes. Mikayla’s hair was disarrayed, unruly curls framed her face and trailed down her back. Her clothes were dirty from the dust in the stairwell. Her shoes were soaked and squished when she moved. Tan legs peaked from beneath the cuffs of her pants where she had rolled up her pant-legs. A bag was slung over one shoulder and a huge mag-light was gripped in another hand. Her hands were streaked in dirt to match the streak that graced her face. Victoria found it amusing to see this professional woman, something she would never be because of her station, standing, staring at a wall with her mouth working like that of a gup
py in dirty clothes. It was an image she believed her brother would have found charming enough to snap a photo, but she found it annoying.

  “Mikayla, darling, your shoes are getting the carpeting wet. Perhaps we should adjourn to the hallway?” Victoria raised a gracious eye brow and gestured towards the door across the room as Mikayla looked dumbly at her feet.

  Mikayla nodded and mumbled her apologies as she made her way across the room. She felt small, like a child who has just committed a stupid act and should have known better. She felt inferior to this self-possessed woman who was tall, beautiful, and graceful. This woman who could inherit an entire country if the correct people disappeared. All Mikayla would ever inherit was a house in the suburbs if something were to happen to her parents.

  Victoria pulled the door closed to the bed chamber after one last look in the room. Her eyes narrowed into cat-like green slits as she watched Mikayla unroll the cuffs of her pants. She snarled to herself that she had been interrupted, but a pleasant smile graced her face when Mikayla straightened and looked at her with all the sheepishness of a Golden Retriever whom had just chewed up the favorite shoes of her mistress. Victoria slipped an arm through Mikayla’s and guided her down the hall towards the grand staircase. “The room you found yourself in was the King’s Bed Chamber until he died. On Saturday, my father and mother will move into that bed chamber following the coronation.”

  Mikayla looked down at her feet as they descended the staircase. Her face reflected back at her in the high polish of the marble. “I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

  Victoria patted Mikayla’s hand. “’Tis alright. He was elderly and ill. The doctors tell us he has gone to a better place.” She threw another brilliant smile at Mikayla getting a tentative one in return. “I believe he is with my grandmother. After all, he never married after her death because he loved her so much.”

  Mikayla nodded. “That’s a nice thought.”

  Victoria watched Mikayla out of the corner of her eye. The American was too quiet, too reserved, too nervous. There was something behind her passage through the wall other than adventuring as she had said. There was something that had driven this nervous creature to explore a passageway that could have lead anywhere. “How is your research going, Mikayla? Are you learning wonderful things about my family?” Victoria’s tone was light, friendly.

  Mikayla shrugged. “I was, but then someone stole all of my research and now I am back to square one for the most part.”

  Victoria made a noise of astonishment and anger. Her words were sharp with annoyance. “Someone stole all your research? How awful for you! I can’t believe that someone would do that!” Her regal hand clenched in a fist.

  Mikayla glanced at Victoria. She hadn’t expected someone to feel that strongly about her work. It was, after all, her work. It made no difference to anyone except the publisher whether she completed the research. The royal family could always hire another historian to write the history. “Well, they didn’t steal all of it, just most of it.” She smiled at Victoria whose eyes were wide with interest. “I still have the diary of King Malachi.”

  Victoria stopped on the stairs. She turned to face Mikayla with surprise and excitement dancing across her face. “You have a diary that was King Malachi’s? Oh, how wonderful. I would love to read it after you are through.” Her perfect mouth curved into a brilliant smile. “My brother, William, looks astonishingly like King Malachi.”

  Mikayla made no sound but felt the dullness fill her. The mere mention of his name was enough to leave her feeling empty. Victoria’s voice rang through her head, the words not comprehending. She wished suddenly to be anywhere but there, anywhere but where he might suddenly appear from around a corner with that perfect smile on his face. That smile that spoke volumes of love, desire, laughter, and adventure.

  “I’ve often thought of King Malachi as a romantic man. The images of him and the legends that surround him are full of adventure. His wife was a mail-order-bride of sorts.” Victoria smiled brightly at Mikayla as Mikayla’s eye brows shot up. “She was given to Malachi to bring peace to the island. She was the daughter of a trader from Greece who came to the island with supplies and to purchase fish. Legend says she was quite stunning.”

  Mikayla listened carefully as Victoria explained the love of King Malachi’s life. How he disliked his queen immensely when they were first introduced, which happened to be at the altar of the church during their wedding ceremony. He took his vows but, according to legend, there was little in his words that led people to believe he would uphold those vows. However, somewhere along the way, Malachi loved his Melina and stayed true to her until her death while giving birth to the last of their eleven children.

  Mikayla was entranced with the story. It was like something out of a romance novel; the handsome king marrying a woman he barely knew and falling desperately in love with her. Mikayla was so caught in the story that she failed to notice when the two women stepped through the doors of the Secluded City onto the street across from the large cathedral where the King’s funeral had been held just days before.

  Mikayla blinked in the bright sunlight and withdrew her arm from Victoria’s who had held onto her as they exited the City. She bowed her head slightly. “I apologize, Your Highness. I was so caught in the tale you were weaving that I lost track of time.”

  Victoria giggled and waved a hand to dismiss Mikayla’s apologies. “Please, Mikayla, call me Victoria, and there is no need to apologize. I was enjoying myself immensely.” She looked around her at the fluttering flags and the brilliant green trees that shaded the street. “I was just thinking how lovely it was to have a female the same age as myself to talk with. It has been a long time since I have had that.” She frowned slightly, remembering something that was far from that moment, far from who she had become.

  Mikayla smiled. “I was going to investigate the city today to see what preparations are being made for the coronation.” She paused and chewed slightly at her lip. Nerves had her blurting out the rest of her question in a rush. “Would you like to walk with me?”

  Victoria beamed a bright smile and linked her arm through Mikayla’s. “I would enjoy that greatly. Thank you.”

  They set off down the hill. Trees danced in the faint breeze. Flowers bright with color bobbed in their boxes. Flags and bunting draped buildings along the streets throwing the ruby red, gold, and midnight blue of the Amor flag into the bright sunlight, dazzling the light. People thronged through the streets as cheerful music blared from various windows, reminding people that mourning for the loss of a king was past and celebration was now upon them. Members of the press snapped pictures of the tourists and the buildings as old women in their worn clothes hung flags from windows and young men scrambled up light poles to hang the flags bearing the seal of Amor to flutter in the breezes.

  Victoria waved at people as they knelt as she passed linked to Mikayla. She was gracious to those who genuflected and conspiratorially whispered in Mikayla’s ear that she hated when people bowed to her. Her hand waved in what was known as the royal wave, a slow curve wafting through the air. Her blonde hair blew gently around her face making her the most beautiful person in the world, in Mikayla’s eyes.

  After walking and admiring the city, Victoria flopped down in a chair on the Patio as Stephen served them café au lait and scones. Mikayla beamed at him as he returned her smile with a shy one of his own. Victoria braced her feet against the wooden railing and stared out at the sea. After a moment, she shaded her eyes and then pointed to a sailboat with its cheerful red sail bobbing on the horizon with a laugh.

  “There’s my handsome brother, sailing as always.” She sipped her drink. “I wonder what beauty is accompanying him this time.”

  Mikayla’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Will’s boat moving smoothly across the choppy sea. She said nothing and stared into her coffee. She tapped her fingers against the china, refusing to acknowledge him.

  Victoria glanced over at Mikayla. She w
as surprised to see Mikayla’s frown and concentration on the drink as if it might slip from her fingers if she didn’t give it her upmost attention. “You haven’t met my brother, have you, Mikayla?”

  Mikayla winced and then glanced over, hoping her face was placid. “We’ve met.” Her statement was simple. She wished she wasn’t transparent as Victoria removed her feet from the railing and turned to face her, her chin resting on a fist, her face the picture of interest.

  Victoria smiled sweetly. “I didn’t realize you had met.” She sensed there was a story here. She sensed there was more than Mikayla was telling. She loved a good intrigue, especially when it belonged to her twin brother.

  Mikayla shrugged. Her eyes flicked up to where Will’s boat had come in closer to the coast. She could just make out his blond hair flying free in the sun, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows and the chunky diving watch adorning a wrist. Without wanting it to happen, her lips curved slightly as he wrestled with the sheets of the sails to keep it tacking in the wind. She could just feel those arms and hands around her, touching, igniting a fire that she knew no one would ever create again.

  “Are you going to tell me about that secretive smile or shall I tell you what I think it means?” Victoria grinned as Mikayla’s head shot up and her eyes flew open in surprise. “Didn’t think you were that transparent, did you?”

  Mikayla fought for control. She fought to dampen the emotions that the thought of Will had aroused. She fought for calm. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice was calm, much calmer than she felt.

  Victoria smiled. “I know that William has stayed on this island longer than he intended to when he first arrived two months ago. I know that he hasn’t spent more than two weeks consecutively on this island since he was fourteen, which explains his British accent. I don’t suppose you could tell me why that is?”